


Mirror

by tzikeh



Category: 1776
Genre: Gen, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2006, recipient:Rabbit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-25
Updated: 2006-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-17 11:43:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzikeh/pseuds/tzikeh





	Mirror

Irritated, exhausted and annoyed, Adams retired to his rooms and flung his topcoat crossly over the foot of his bed. It had been mere hours since he had pressed a quill into Jefferson's hands, and thus had pressed Jefferson into writing the paper which would convey to the civilized world the solid and unshakable foundation upon which they would build their new country. The paper would also -- and at the thought, John could not control a slight twitch of his lips -- give them an additional six weeks to persuade the nay colonies to come to their senses, or at least to persuade them to bow to a majority, if the yea colonies could craft one.

He had no doubt that Jefferson was stewing in his own rooms right now, damning John Adams to the Seventh Level of Dante's Inferno, but he also knew that Jefferson would do what was necessary. Franklin was making noises about the Carolinas, and Adams happily left that concern to the good Doctor. Though he fancied himself indefatigable, John Adams could bear but one more weight upon his already bent and burdened shoulders: John Dickinson.

John Dickinson would not be swayed by a majority; of that Adams was certain. The man was obdurate as stone and constant as the tides; was too clever by half and too quick-witted for his own good. Adams was certain that Dickinson would not give an inch. He had dug in his heels and would not be moved.

Frustrated anew with his utter inability to get the man to see reason, Adams made short work of his waistcoat, pitched it toward his topcoat, and rolled up his shirtsleeves to begin his evening ablutions. Scooping fresh water from the recently-filled basin (and God bless his landlady for keeping an eye to the road for his return each night), he splashed it over his heated face and then patted himself dry with the small towel on the table. As he raised his face to the mirror, he was struck with the unprecedented realization he saw in his face, his eyes.

Obdurate. Constant. Too clever by half and too quick-witted for his own good. He would not give an inch, He had dug in his heels.

He would not be moved.

Hands on either side of the table, John dropped his head.

It was going to be a very, very long six weeks.


End file.
